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Madison Square Garden, New York City, 1 June 1974: 10CC warms the room, then Johnny Winter hits the lights and the place turns into a packed, standing, shout-back juke joint with better seats and worse manners. Most of the night leans on the then-new "Saints & Sinners" songs, pushed hard and fast, and that extra guitar finally gives the boogie some sharp corners instead of one long blur. Winter keeps it loud-but-not-fancy, intricate but never above anybody's head - the king of the boogie merchants doing exactly what he came to do. The gallop can get samey; my ticket stub felt sweaty. Beer cans sail, fireworks pop, and he barely flinches - just growls "Yeh wanna rock and roll?" and kicks the next tune into our ribs. Obnoxious crowd, locked-in band, and the ringing followed me home like a stray dog.
JOHNNY WINTER NEW YORK:
Johnny Winter Is all that the American rock fan needs for an evening's entertainment. Johnny and a pack of beer, an opportunity to shake and shout, wave arms in the end and finish the evening by throwing the empty beer cans through a window. Winter is the king of the boogie merchants; flash but not too flash, loud but not complex. intricate but never above the fans' heads. A perfect combination of talent and ability to judge what the audience wants to hear. In his way, Johnny Winter is to America what Slade are to England in this respect.
Both acts are acutely aware of what to give their audience. Winter played a packed Madison Square Garden rec. ently. The orchestra level patrons were out of their seats for the whole show and the crush at the front looked less than comfortable. It was up, up, up all the way: rock roll from start to finish punctuated only by Johnny's sorties towards the mike between songs and hoarse shouts along the lines of "Do yer wanna rock 'n' roll?" Unanimous "yeahs" inevitably bounced back. most of his material was taken from the new "Saints and Sinners" album.
The last time I saw Winter, the band I was just three musicians. This time he's added an extra guitar player which filled out the sound even more and. thankfully, rang the changes a little from number to number. A little variation has added considerably more colour to the band, even though the relentless boogie became a little wearying after an hour. There were times when you could walk outside for 20 minutes and return, convinced that the band was playing the same number. It must have been frustrating for the performer that this particular part of the show seemed lost on the crowd who continued to yell for more "boogies."
Some fans even chucked beer cans and the like on stage causing Winter to interrupt the proceedings with a warning that any more missiles and he would end the show there and then. It stopped —although it didn't stop other factions inside the Garden from chucking lighted fireworks from the upper levels of this cavernous structure. Winter's decided he's there to entertain rather than educate. The audience, which included brother Edgar sat at the side of the stage, loved every move he made. — CHRIS CHARLESWORTH.